


Team Building Exercises

by shouldhaveknownbetter



Series: Extra-Curricular Activities [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Bedsharing, F/M, Fake Dating, Field Trip, Fluff, Getting Together, Identity Reveal, Kissing, Let's not be coy, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Spideychelle, Swearing, Toplessness, this is total
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 00:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18399818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shouldhaveknownbetter/pseuds/shouldhaveknownbetter
Summary: It’s time for another Academic Decathlon tournament, and MJ’s first major test as team captain.  Too bad she’s already down two players and running late.  Ned Leeds is home legitimately sick as a dog.  But where the hell is Peter Parker? Actually, scratch that.  MJ can probably guess.  He’s up a tree saving a cat, rescuing people from a burning building, or beating up a mugger.  All super admirable, but also super inconvenient.  It’s hard to get mad at someone out doing good, especially when you’re pretending you don’t know what he’s up to, but MJ feels she’s up to the challenge.  If he ever shows up….





	Team Building Exercises

Okay, so MJ had the clipboard.   Done.  She looked down at the list again.  It was short, and it hadn’t changed in the thirty seconds since her last check.  The clipboard was supposed to give her authority.  Gravitas.  Whatever.  Liz had recommended it in her super long email with advice about being Academic Decathlon Captain.  MJ had read the email carefully and then re-read it, getting a headache thinking about ‘teambuilding, skills assessments, and subject-focused practice sessions.’  Then, she’d gotten the clipboard.

And it was failing her.  Sure, she was standing at the door to the school bus, checking off Decathlon team members as they boarded, looking busy and avoiding eye contact, but did the clipboard have the answer for what to do when they were missing two people and the bus should have left ten minutes ago?

No. It did not.  Stupid clipboard.

Ned Leeds was out with a doctor’s note.  Sick and sad about it, down with something he _swears_ he could not have avoided by getting all his shots.  This was an Act of God, he said.  It was Fate.  Out of his control.

Peter Parker, _presumably_ completely healthy, Just. Wasn’t. There. 

MJ looked at her list again.  Checkmarks next to every name but two.  Crap.

She gave the list of names her best lethal scowl.  Unlike most people and things – anything with sentience and desire for self-preservation, really – it didn’t stutter in terror, retreat, or otherwise bend to her will.  Probably this was meant to be a test of her leadership skills or some bullshit. _If_ she believed in that sort of thing.

Alright then.  She knew what the right thing to do was, even if it was going to suck.

“Let’s go everybody,” MJ said, capping her pen and stabbing it into the clip.  “All aboard.” 

“What? NO.”  Flash actually tried to stop her from boarding the bus, forcing her to menace him by walking straight at him without stopping until he backed away from her down the bus aisle.  “Don’t make me say it.  I’ll deny it later, but we _need_ Parker.  We’re toast without either him or Leeds.

MJ squared her shoulders.  Yet another one of those leadership challenges that Liz went on about _at length_ in the email she’d sent MJ.  “Acknowledged.  But if we don’t haul some ass, _all_ of us will miss the tournament check-in and won’t even get a chance to crash and burn.  So, sit down, Flash.”

“Hasn’t anyone texted him?  Called?  Can we track the GPS on his phone?”

MJ let that one slide without answering.  No need to admit that she’d just surreptitiously called him, _actually_ called, not just texted.  _Twice_.  No, he didn’t answer.  And if Peter was as smart as he pretended to be, he’d already ghosted his GPS so he always appeared to be blamelessly sitting at home or something.  Suspicious and improbable, but not incriminating. 

“Then let’s swing by Leeds’ place and like, kidnap him.  I’m sure whatever he has isn’t _that_ contagious and at least we know where to find _him_.”  Flash turned to the rest of the team and made an Evita-like gesture for support.  “Right? We can just prop him up for the competition and leave him NyQuiled up in his room until we need him.  Yeah?  Am I right?”

“Hard _no_ on that.” Cindy jumped in before MJ had a chance to shut this argument down.  “I’m not missing out on basketball because I got sick from Ned’s crud.  I’m finally starting next game, the first time it doesn’t conflict with AcaDec, so sit the hell down and let the bus driver get moving.”

Flash immediately snarled back.  “Yeah, but we’re down two losers, who actually, for once in their pathetic lives, help us _win_ , and I don’t know about the rest of you, I like _winning_.  We’re all pulling our weight at practices, busting our asses to make the team, and Parker can’t even be bothered to make the bus.  We could have been training up some sad freshman or recruiting if we knew he wasn’t coming.  This is some kind of weird preferential treatment for science nerds.”

_Offensive._   Every mouth on the bus opened.  It was a race to see who could draw breath first, but Abe was first to the rebuttal.  “Flash, has it escaped your attention that we go to a _science_ high school?   – ”

Charles interrupts, talking over Abe to defend himself. “– _I’m_ a freshman! You got something against freshmen?  – ”

Other voices trampled over the start of this very nearly civil conversation.  “– Ned is coughing up a lung and doesn’t deserve to be kidnapped!  Leave him alone!”

“– Why don’t we just drive up and down the streets until we spot Parker?  Or call his parents?  I mean, his aunt?  Isn’t he still on academic probation?  – ”

Someone needed to break this up.  Mr. Harrison was _right there_.  Surely, he would defuse this, tell everyone to shut up so they could get going.  Right.  _Right?_

Nope.  Mr. Harrison just waved his arms and sorta wheebled, “Guys, stop…” 

Whatta hero.  Everyone kept right on yelling.

Omg.  MJ closed her eyes.  She could not just sink into a sticky bus seat and ignore this like she would have done only a few months ago. Nope. No one else was going to fix this.  _C’mon, MJ._ But her comfortable inertia said, _Nah._ Some other part of her, maybe the part that was secretly jazzed to have some power, said in a whisper, _Liz would do it._   The angry part of her snapped back, _Oh, who cares about Liz_ (ugh, not like _that._   Liz was great, but she wasn’t MJ.  And Liz wasn’t here.)  Some small part of her (maybe one that had already weighed in, it was hard to tell) said, _Come_ on. _This is your problem.  Fix it._

MJ clenched her fists and forced herself forward, into the melee.  Time to regulate.  _Clearly_ being polite wasn’t the way to go.  MJ put one sneaker on a seat and launched herself up to gain some visibility and then stuck her fingers in her mouth and _whistled._   She was going for LOUD but passed it on the way to EARDRUM PIERCING.

“Everyone please sit the heck down,” she said into the ringing silence that followed.  “It’s time for the bus to get going.  Even you, Eugene.”  She poked Flash in the chest.  Gently.  Then she modulated her tone to something more calming.  She _hoped._   “Hey, guys.  We’ll cope.  We always do.  Peter wasn’t there for Nationals and look what happened?  Everyone else stepped up.  We won.  We’re more than just one person.  We’re a team.”  Okay, wow that sounded fake, but MJ nodded solemnly at everyone and received some nods in return.  _See, Liz? I can do this.  Platitudes ahoy._

“But…”  Flash trailed off his rebuttal, looking at the faces of the rest of the team, all clearly torn about their prospects without their strongest players in chemistry, coding, and random science, but wilting under the force of MJ’s personality.  Seeing their wavering faces, he switched to pouting.  “Fine.  But why the hell hasn’t anyone put a tracker on Parker so we can just scoop him up?”  He slammed himself into a seat.  “Admit it, we all saw this coming. No one here is surprised.”

Okay, yes.  MJ would admit that, but not out _loud_.  Betting money on that Peter Parker would be a no-show on any given day was the safest gamble around.  She nodded to the bus driver and Mr. Harrison, who for some reason thought she was in charge of these things.  Great.  “All Aboard!” she tried with fake cheer than fooled no one.   They were headed off to ugly defeat at the hands of every team they’d ever talked smack to and the whole team knew it.

MJ slid down into her seat at the front, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head, and savagely biting the cap of her pen as soon as she was sure she was out of sight.

Fucking Peter Parker. 

Peter been on his best behavior since Liz had left, and MJ had let herself be fooled.  Not that it would have saved them anything but their current disappointment, since they couldn’t have gotten another teammate up to speed on such short notice, but they could have lowered their expectations and maybe been a little less cocky.  Those jackasses at Westchester High had been in their faces constantly on social media.  Okay, to be fair, the Midtown team weren’t exactly meek, either.  But they might not have thrown down quite as hard if they’d known they’d be missing two people by the time the tournament rolled around.

And they were on their way.  The old white guy bus driver in his Mets hat (required!) had eased away from the school and into traffic with a grinding of gears that exactly matched MJ’s grinding nerves.  She could hear Flash starting up a playlist on his phone and the groans of those around him.  Okay, she’d give them until they’re out of the city and then she’d be calm enough to start some practice rounds without biting anyone’s head off.  Yeah, that’s probably what a good captain would do.

She flicked to a blank page on her clipboard and sketched a few quick shapes, just to relieve her feelings a little bit.  Maybe she should try a self-portrait.  Team Captain in Crisis.

The bus slowed to take a corner and – _bang!_   Something crashed into the bus door.  And stuck there.  Flash screamed, and MJ popped her head up to look.

It’s Peter.

Mr. Harrison bellows, “Stop the bus!” But the driver already had begun the noisy process of applying the brakes, coming to a stop halfway around the corner, thusly blocking traffic on _two_ streets, before he biffed on the school bus flashers and levers the door open.  Now traffic in every direction is obligated to stop.  _Total power move_ , said the corner of MJ’s brain not fritzing out.

“Oh, wow.  Thanks,” Peter said, jumping lightly aboard.  “Sorry about that.” 

“Peter!”  comes the shriek from the team, and _omg,_ were they _all_ seriously going to rush up the aisle to welcome him?  Yes, it seemed like they were.  MJ hopped up from her seat and stepped into the aisle to prevent him from being squished into a many-armed hug right there, just as the honking starts up from every direction from the vehicles stopped around them. 

The bus driver extended his arm out the window.  Extended a middle finger.  Left the flashers on.

MJ tried out her best listen-to-me-voice.  “Hey.  We all gotta sit down again so the bus can keep moving.  We’re blocking traffic.  And we still need to haul some ass to make it on time.” She’d break out the whistle again if she needed to, but didn’t want to cheapen it.  But there was no need. The team all toppled back into their seats, giddy with relief, and the bus lurched forward once more, the bus driver uninterested in their drama.

MJ whipped back around.  “Sit down, Parker,” she snarls.  They’re nose to nose.  He wasn’t even out of breath, though he’s a little windswept. 

“Yeah, yeah.  Of course.” He dropped into the first seat, opposite hers, shrugging off his backpack and messenger bag, the yellow Decathlon blazer over top his clothes. “Again, I’m so, so sorry.  I stopped by to see Ned, you know, check in on how he’s feeling and then there was this big accident and they were rerouting traffic, so I had to go around the block and then…”

“Oh, yeah?” MJ sneered.  “Is that the story you’re going with? Maybe workshop that a little bit more and get back to us.”

MJ can actually see his good humor wilt. Okay, _ouch._ But how can he bop onto the bus like nothing happened and then try to get her to choke down such a stupid lie?

“Um – okay,” he says, meek as can be.  “Sorry.  I’ll just –”

“No! Not okay.”  She advanced on him, following him into his seat.  Alarmed, he scooted away from her until his back hit the window.  “You _promised._   You actually got down on your knees and swore to be that you were fully committed to coming to _all_ practices and _all_ tournaments.   I bumped Flash back down to alternate for you. And, now, when Ned’s sick and we really, really need you, you almost miss the bus.  Do you have any idea how screwed we would be without you?”  _Actually, MJ, maybe don’t yell that so loud after reassuring the team that they’d be just fine…_

“I know, I know!  I’m so, so, so sorry!  Really, there was an accident.  And I had to go around.  I swear, I left early and everything today.  I promise, MJ.  I really –”

As if he wasn’t late because he was rescuing a cat from a tree or saving an old lady from a burning building.  Heck, maybe if she checks twitter right now, that accident he mentioned would turn out to be a real thing.  Maybe someone got a picture of Spider-Man helping someone and posted it, too. Just for fun.

MJ realized that other than the background noise of the bus’s engine, silence reigned.  Still looming over Peter, she turned her head and saw the entire team, Mr. Harrison including, following their exchange with avid attention.  Peter noticed her pause and shifted to peer over the top of the seat.  “Can you maybe finish yelling at me later,” he whispered to her.

_“_ That can be arranged,” MJ hissed and Peter actually, sorta smiled at her?  And now there’s this roaring in her ears, and she realizes that she’s got him pined against the side of the bus still, spread eagled like he’s just surrendered or…  She straightened up quickly and spun on her heel to retreat to her own seat, putting her head down and ignoring how all the voices started back up immediately, how Peter shifted in his seat and kept shooting her glances, and how the stupid little voice kept telling her to maybe singe him a little less with her eye lasers next time.  _And miss out on the fun of cornering him?  Nah._

Missing the bus to the tournament because he was saving someone might be a good reason for some people, but MJ had a reputation to maintain, a team to lead, and a tournament to win.

_And you definitely enjoyed getting in his face, didn’tcha?_

Absolutely no comment on that last one.

****

The rest of the bus ride unfolded without incident. 

MJ managed to get the whole team mostly attentive and participating, releasing Peter from isolation at the front of the bus, and more or less maintaining her authority over her crew.  Mr. Harrison was kind but useless except as the required adult body needed to accompany them and that was fine, MJ was totally fine with this.  She’s ready to be in charge, even if she felt like she’s crawling out of her skin from all the focused attention and neediness of her teammates.  At some point she just knew she’s going to have to find a nice empty room and scream her head off later (maybe she can use the bus?) but first, the competition.

And maybe that bus driver wasn’t exactly slow either, because they made it to check-in with plenty of time to spare and even were all able to choke down lunch at the food court at the convention center where the tournament was being held before their first match.

Which they totally owned.  Big relief.

MJ felt her skin humming through the different rounds, swapping in players and making notes.   She rotated herself in, bagging some tough questions, and banging elbows with Peter.  They high fived at the buzzer when they won.  Then MJ almost got crushed when Flash tried to chest bump Peter who wasn’t paying attention.  Yikes.  Narrow escape.

Their second match was a blur.  But they beat the other team handily and headed to the bus to go the hotel and to dinner before checking into their rooms.

Peter seemed just a little lost without Ned, but rallied, sitting next to Abe and Charles at dinner and horsing around when called upon. 

MJ noticed that there’s a scrape on the side of his neck.  Barely there, but it matched up the tiny spot of blood on the inside of his collar – so tiny that she’s probably the only one who noticed. She thought that his suit was supposed to protect him from that kind of stuff?  One more thing to add to the list of things to yell at Tony Stark about if she ever got to meet him.

But now that she thought about it…  MJ could always tell when Peter had been wearing the mask because it flattened down his hair for a while afterwards.  And that morning on the bus…she tried to remember. His hair had been…fluffy?  Not mashed?  Maybe he wasn’t totally lying.

While waiting in the hotel lobby for her turn to check in with Sally, her roommate for the tournament by mutual agreement and pre-arrangement, MJ pulled up all the Spider-Man thirst blogs and twitter on her phone.  Despite being _deeply_ embarrassing at times, they were usually super reliable for sightings and news, but there was nothing new from that morning.  Huh.

Okay, then.  Local Queens news?  So there _had_ been an accident about the time they were leaving the school.  The coverage was brief, saying a van had overturned and that passers-by had helped until police arrived.  No pictures. Well, inconclusive.  MJ decided that if Peter had been there, the news report would have mentioned the appearance of Spider-Man.  The suit wasn’t exactly subtle.

Speaking of whomst…. “Hey,” said Peter, sorta easing up next to her while spinning two room key cards between his fingers. “I wanted to say again that I’m really sorry about the bus and being late.  I really did mean what I said before about being committed to the team.  This morning, I was ready, I had a plan, and then I just…there was that accident and I had to go the long way around.  Truly. But I know that doesn’t mean that much when I almost miss the bus.  So, I’m really sorry.”

MJ’s eyes went half lidded and she didn’t answer him, while possible responses flitted through her head.  _Then why didn’t you text or call?  Or answer me when_ I _called._   Or maybe, _I’m sure you don’t_ mean _to be unreliable…_  

“MJ!”  Sally had made it up to the front of the line and was waving her over.  Eviscerating Peter with another silent look, MJ rose and went to the desk.  She didn’t look back, but her shoulders twitched from imagining his eyes on her as she walked away.

The bored guy in the vest behind the desk slid MJ her room key and, as she stepped away from the desk, Sally linked arms with her in a too-friendly way (didn’t MJ cultivate a prickly personality just to fend off such moments?) and wheedled “Heyyyyy, Roomie! Can we talk?”  MJ didn’t need any special powers to feel a premonition of imminent awkwardness, Sally’s shiny, hopeful face was warning enough.  “Remember what I said would probably never happen?  _Well_.  I need a favor…”

 

***

 

MJ waited until everyone else had more or less settled into their rooms before banging on Peter’s door.  She wasn’t ashamed of what she was doing, but she didn’t want any witnesses, either.

“MJ?” he said, cracking the door just enough that she could see that he was still fully dressed in the same clothes from earlier.  No pjs as yet and no red and blue romper.

“Correct,” she says.  “Can I come in?”

“Um.” He cuts his eyes away to check the room and then back to her.  “Sure.”  Nothing incriminating yet.  Good.

“Thanks.”  Peter stepped back and MJ breezed in, noting the king-sized bed where Peter had already spread out his laptop and backpack, the rumpled messenger bag and yellow blazer on the chair by the sliding doors to the balcony.

Peter watched MJ as she surveyed the room, his hands deep in his pockets and his face politely mystified.

“I’m staying here with you tonight,” MJ said and threw her backpack on the unoccupied side of the bed.  Her duffle and blazer hit the desk chair.

“Um, what?”  He’s still polite.  Puzzled, even. But he didn’t believe her.

“Sally and I were supposed to be roommates, but we had an agreement that I’d make myself scarce if she was able to make up with Aurora, you know the chick with the amazing dreads from that school in like, Yonkers, I think.  We haven’t played them yet.”

He shook his head, shook his whole body really.  “You’re going to share a room with me so Sally can hook up with someone from another team?”

“Yes, exactly that.  I knew you’d get it.” MJ perched on the side of the bed to unlace her sneakers.  The room was completely revolting.  Beige on beige.  The bedspread was leafy green beige and brown beige, which more or less matched the walls and the ‘artwork.’  Blah.  “Hey, can we like dim the lights or something.  I hate what the fluorescence does to the decor.”  She shuddered.

Peter was still standing by the door, now with his arms crossed. 

She finished with her shoes and stretched out on her stomach, head towards the foot of the bed. “Oh, come on. Are you really gonna be like that?  This’ll be fun.  Like a sleepover.  You can braid my hair, and I can pretend I’m Ned and do whatever you guys do together. Crack jokes about _The Lord of the Rings_?  I don’t know, you tell me.”  MJ tilted her head to look up at his disbelieving face.

“Sorry, I’m still processing this.  You’re going to have to give me a minute.” Peter tried again.  “You’re staying here tonight?” 

“Yesss,” she said, letting him catch up.  “Sally is hooking up in the room that we were supposed to share.  I gotta go somewhere.”

“And why not go double up with Cindy or…” He struggled to think of another good combination.  “A friend from another team?  Like a female friend?  Why me?”

“Because,” MJ said, still patient, “Cindy snores.  Plus, she’s rooming with Priyanka, her basketball camp buddy.  And I’m not going to bunk with the enemy.  You’re basically not terrible.  And since Ned didn’t make it, I knew you had this place all to yourself.”  Neither of them mentioned Flash.  Not an option.

MJ gave Peter time to chew this over.  He was absolutely going to be fine with this in the end, she was sure of it.  In the year and a half that she’d known him – even before he’d gotten superpowers – she’d learned that he would literally throw himself in front of a speeding train for anyone, much less say _yes_ to a much lesser favor.  Peter would eventually give in, but how stiff and strange would this end up being?  How resentful and/or awkward would he be?   MJ one day hoped to find that one teenage boy whose fantasy included sharing a hotel room with a girl who might verbally flay him, but she wasn’t deluding herself that today was the day.  And she was sure as fuck holding out for that guy – whoever he might be – who was going to be deeply into MJ just as she was:  weird, occasionally mean, crafty, and not actually all that into people as a species.  Peter, king of nice, rescuer of puppies and trainloads of strangers, wouldn’t say _no_ to her, but also might never relax enough for them to do anything more than spend the night awkwardly breathing in the same room and avoiding eye contact. 

There was an infinitesimal change in his stance, his shoulders relaxed and he snorted a little what MJ _hoped_ was fond exasperation. Y _ou’re in_ , MJ told herself.  Then he said, “You know, there’s an intense double standard going on right here.  If I did this, showing up at your hotel room door and saying we were now roomies, it would be unforgivably creepy.”

“You’re right.”  She rewarded him with a finger gun to hide her relief.  Banter equaled acceptance, right? “Thank you for being aware of that and vocalizing it.  In my position, you would not be able to get away with this.  I am also probably abusing my power as your captain, which I’m sure you were about to bring up. Am I right?”

Peter scrunched up his face and pretended to think about it.  “Yes.  Is there any way you’re also planning on playing on my guilt for being late for the bus, too?”

“Absolutely!”  This was fun!  “Thanks for saving me the trouble of trying to bring that up gracefully.”

Peter sighed hugely and relaxed his arms.  “Fine.  But what would you have done if Ned hadn’t been sick?”

“Spooned you both?”  MJ deadpanned.  She let that hang in the air for a beat as she examined the parade of reactions that skittered across Peter’s face.  First, surprised eyebrows.  Next, was that wariness? Then his typical Peter-good humor took over and he decided it was okay to relax into a laugh.   

“Too bad Ned has to miss out on that,” he said.

MJ patted the other side of the bed.  “C’mon.  Put your backpack between us to preserve your virtue, and it’ll be fine.  It’s a king-sized bed for fuck’s sake.  I’m not sure we’d bump into each other even doing snow angels.”  She fluttered her arms and legs for emphasis.

“Okay...” Peter walked back around to the side he’d already claimed, and sat down with his back against the propped-up pillows, his legs stretched out in front of him so his feet were about level with her shoulders.  MJ made the mistake of turning her head and seeing that he was wearing gray socks with tiny green Yodas on them.  Gross.  Just, totally gross.  Not cute at all.  Nope.  MJ felt something lurch in the vicinity of her chest and searched for distraction from those stupid socks.  From those stupid feet.  She was absolutely not going to permit herself to have any fond feelings for someone who was more than likely still half in love with Liz, after however many months since he’d murdered his chances with her.  The Venn Diagram of people capable of crushing on both Liz and MJ is like the headlights of an oncoming train or maybe the poles of the earth.  Okay, this metaphor was breaking down, but the point _was_ , it just didn’t exist. 

“For the record, though.  This is weird,” Peter said, interrupting her inner musings

MJ answers him from the depths of her backpack, where she was rummaging around looking for her pencil case.  “For sure.  But are you talking about something specific?” she said as she carefully set aside two thick hardcover books – her emergency reading in case things got bad.

“Well, like a half hour ago – less – you seemed ready to bite my face off for trying to apologize in the lobby.  Or did I read that wrong?” Peter said.  She can’t see his face the way she’s lying, doesn’t know if he’s watching her or not.

“Fair enough.  Do you really want to revisit that, though?  Like, shouldn’t you _want_ to move on without further analysis?”  MJ opened her pencil case and began the arduous selection process.  Like, really?  Did he _genuinely_ want to have this discussion?  Because it could so very easily veer into facts that he was trying to hide.  How strenuously did she really have to pretend that she didn’t know what he got up to?  If he wasn’t going to make the effort, why should she?

Peter fell silent.  _I thought not_ , MJ’s inner critic jeered.

Then he drew in a deep breath and went for it.   _Oh, really?????_  “No, I guess I’m not smart enough to let it go.  I get that you’re still pretty mad about that.  You’re a good captain.   You care about us doing well and can’t just be super lax about stuff like that.” 

_He thinks I’m a good captain?_   MJ shook herself.  She never negged herself and wasn’t going to start fishing for some reassurance now.  Still, there was that tiny, squishy part of her that was going to set that aside to admire later.  “One more time, are you sure you want to open this up for discussion?”  She chanced looking at him over her shoulder where he was sitting with his back against the tacky beige headboard.  Peter had set his laptop aside and was looking at her steadily.  He nodded.

_Fuck it, then_.  MJ levered herself up on her elbows and then turned towards him on her side.  Awkward, but easier to be able to watch his face.  “Listen.  It’s not only that you were late today.  Accidents happen, life happens.  I myself have missed buses and trains once or twice.  But with you, it’s just gonna keep on happening, isn’t it?  You literally got down on your knees and _swore_ you’d be reliable.  And then –” She gestures emphatically, letting him fill in the blank.

“And if I remember, you seemed pretty pissed at the time,” Peter said, his expression careful, watchful.  “With the whole promising thing.  Like, you were _really_ mad at me.”

What the heck was this?  MJ sprang upright and faced him.  Non-confrontational Peter wanted to know why she was furious at him?  MJ remembered that day, his earnest face looking up at her, the rest of the team cackling after he dramatically fell to his knees before her on the crappy linoleum floor of the classroom, remembered thinking how nothing he said _meant_ anything.  Oh, Peter didn’t _intend_ to lie, but he’d blow off Decathlon in an instant to put on a stretchy suit and jump off buildings if someone was in trouble.  And she couldn’t even be completely angry about it, which just made her even _more_ angry.  Peter was out there saving lives, while she pretended that she didn’t know.  And _now,_ here on a dreary hotel bed – beige! – he wanted to probe exactly why she was pissed at him.

“Do you really want to know why?”  she said, biting off every word.

“Um, I think already know.  And I think you know why I was really late.” Peter clasped his hands around his knees, his gaze steady.

MJ forgot to breathe.  They stared at each other.  Well, she was _for sure_ not going to be the one to speak first after _that_.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Peter said.

“What do you think I know?” MJ countered.  “Seems like you’d tell me if there was something you wanted me to know.”  MJ’s heart was pounding in her ears.  Was this really happening?  She couldn’t possibly be misinterpreting this conversation, could she?  Could Peter have another, different secret that he was at the point of revealing?  She had seen wayyyyy too many movies to just _assume_ that they were talking about the same thing.  But aside from his superhero secret identity, Peter was _the_ most straightforward and upright person she knew.  It was kind of disgusting, actually.  She was disgusted.  So very grossed out by his extreme decency.

Peter sighed.  A deep, lung-clearing sigh.  “It’s weird that you’d say that because I’ve never gotten the chance to _choose_ to tell anyone.  Everyone’s always just found out in different ways, usually in the worst way possible.”

MJ dug her nails into her palms and the sharp points of pain helped her focus, she _hoped,_ because like an idiot, she had almost just grabbed his hand.  She was sure he hadn’t meant it that way, but the way he’d said it sounded so out of control, so accidental as to be almost a violation.  Maybe he realized how that it came across.  Maybe he didn’t care.  But he looked away from her quickly, like he needed a moment, and then looked back, eyes bright.  Superheroing was some emotional shit. 

“I wanted _you_ to tell me.  I wanted you to _want_ to tell me.  If you trusted me.”  MJ hated how soft her voice sounded.  No, she wasn’t going to be all mushy about this. NO.  No, no. no.

Peter tilted his head. “Really?  Why?”

Why? _Why?_ MJ choked on the word.  Why????

Peter watched her struggle and just continued, “I mean, it’s not like you hold back, like, ever.  When I figured out that you knew, I couldn’t understand why you hadn’t already nailed me to the wall over it.  You just continued to give me endless shit over being late, but, like, your heart wasn’t in it?”

MJ recovered enough to take offense.  “You’d prefer that I was _more_ of an asshole to you?  That can be arranged!”

Peter shrugged.  “No… I just…” He took a deep breath.  “I just hoped it meant something.  That you didn’t completely hate me.  That maybe you liked me a little bit.  After all, you never kicked me off the team.”

“We needed you,” she said faintly.  “ _Do_ need you.”

“And you’re here now instead of doubling up with someone else.  _Anyone_ else.” 

Well, fuck.  “You’re not completely terrible,” MJ managed to say.  “By far the best option I had.”

“Okay….”  Was he laughing at her?  MJ felt warmth flood her face as Peter said, “You’re not terrible either.  In fact, I think you’re amazing.”

Her inner critic, the part of her brain that she counted on for snappy comebacks in moments such as this – had she _ever_ had a moment like this before??? – had just swooned and therefore was totally failing her.  MJ just stared back at Peter.  Then slowly, she reached out and took ahold of his wrists, sliding up the cuffs of his usual battered blue plaid shirts, one at a time.  There they were, the web spinner thingies, strapped tightly down.  Confirmation.  Not that she had had any doubts, but it was nice to see them in person.  MJ peeked up at Peter who watched her, his face wavering between eager and wary.

But he wasn’t stopping her.  She pushed the cuffs up further and found only bare arms.  “Where’s your suit?”  She looked over her shoulder as if it would leap out of his bag, summoned by her words alone.

“I left it at home,” Peter said.

“What?”  Her head whipped back so she could stare at him – Peter jumped, actually _jumped_ , at her expression – and she tightened her hands over his wrists to keep him from pulling away.  “Why?”

“I didn’t want to be tempted to skip out of the tournament…. What?”

“So, you had to help out at that accident without your suit.”  But she had already guessed that, hadn’t she?

Peter shrugged, his skin warm under her fingers and MJ felt every movement, every shift of muscle through her hands, still clasped around his wrists, his hands loose and open. Why didn’t she let go?

She knew why.

He looked up at her with a little half-smile.  “’Not obsessed.  Just very observant.’”

It took a moment for that phrase to echo down through her memory.  And then – “Are you throwing my own words back at me?”

“Yup.” Oh, he was so pleased with himself!

But then his smile fell away, and MJ felt the muscles in his wrists shift under her fingers as his whole body stiffened, then his pupils dilated like something out of a nature documentary, and he looked past her to the curtain-covered sliding doors to the hotel room balcony, reacting to something MJ couldn’t sense. “What?” she said.

“I don’t know.” He slid his wrists out of her grip so fast she didn’t even get a chance to try clamping down to keep a hold on him, and then he _fucking leapt across the room_.  He went from the bed to the wall, to the sliding door.  Spider-Man _confirmed_.  Well, if she had had any doubts up until that point…. MJ twisted around on the bed to watch him fling aside the beige curtains that matched the bedspread and peer out.  MJ had gotten pretty disoriented going from the lobby to the room, but she _thought_ Peter’s room – their room now – overlooked the parking lot.

She dismounted the bed a heck of a lot less dynamically and went to peer over his shoulder.  It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but then she realized that they were on the side of hotel that overlooked the parkway – super classy accommodations – and that something had gone wrong.  Taillights blossomed under the streetlights and several cars sat crookedly in the road, their headlights pointing in angles off the road. 

MJ said, “What did you hear?”  She groped back through her memory to try to pick out any sounds that might have matched what had set Peter off.  But her senses had been filled with…something else. 

“I don’t think it was an accident, there wasn’t an impact.  Just cars trying to stop.  There.” He pointed.  “There’s a light pole or powerlines down.  That’s why.”

“Peter.” MJ grabbed his arm.  “I think there are powerlines on that car.”  She pointed to a minivan that she could just make out, stationary but at an angle in its lane.  There was some faint sparking from the pavement around it.

Sliding the balcony door open, Peter went out for a better look and MJ followed, her stocking feet immediately cold on the bumpy concrete.  “You’re right,” he said.  “Something happened to those lines there.  The people in that car better stay put.  Those lines are right over them.  If they try to get out…”

“They’re trapped,” MJ breathed.  She felt stupid, stiff.   Her arms were leaden when she reached out to grip the railing.  The disaster in Washington D.C. aside, MJ hadn’t had to deal with really _any_ emergencies where people’s lives were in danger.  People’s emotional and mental well-being?  Sure.  She’d been the _cause_ of some of those crises.  But this was a different kind of disaster. 

Peter pushed past her again, back into the room, and MJ moved jerkily out of the way before following him as he went over to his backpack where he started yanking out his clothes and flinging them aside.

“Peter…”  MJ trailed after him. “You can’t… you don’t have your suit…”  Her mind flashed to him trying to pull people out, his face exposed, the resulting reveal of his identity. 

 “Yes.  No suit,” he said.  “I didn’t…I wanted.”  He looked up at her with a rueful smile.  “I wanted to stay out of trouble so you wouldn’t get mad at me.  So, I left it at home.  But now I’ve blown it once and I’m gonna have to do something now without being totally obvious who I am.”

Her inner critic woke back up. _He doesn’t actually need to do anything, you know. Let the grown-ups handle it for once._   MJ spoke up.  “Peter, they can call someone for this. There are people…you know.  Emergency services.  Someone has probably dialed 911 by now and they’ll turn off the power and get them out.  This isn’t a supervillain situation or someone in dire peril.  Those people are safe, for now….”  She stopped as he finished emptying his backpack and sat back on his heels.  His face was determined, fixed.  She knew him.  She knew that her sensible words wouldn’t sway him.  If there was the slightest chance he could help, he’d do it.  “Okay, never mind.  Reason isn’t going to work on you.  You have to help.  I get it.  What do you need?”

“I need something to wear.  I don’t have to be Spider-Man, but I rather not be me, either,” he said.

MJ’s brain clicked into _fix it_ mode.  Which felt familiar.  It felt like she was back at the tournament, solving problems and telling people what to do.  Huh.   Might as well embrace it.  She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the mess Peter had made of his packed clothes.  “Here’s what you’re going to do: take off your shirt.”

“What?”  He stood up quickly.

“Just your button-up.  Keep the gray shirt you have underneath.  It’s dark enough.”  Hi shirt said _Goodnight Trilobite_ on it.  She looked him critically up and down, forcing herself to let the shirt go without comment.  “The jeans.  Can you wear them and still do your spider-thing?”

He looked down.  “Sure?”

“Great.  Keep ‘em.”  MJ quickly unzipped the black hoodie that she was still wearing and tossed it to him.  He caught it, but made no move to start unbuttoning his blue plaid shirt.  “Go!  Do you want to help those people or not?” she barked.

Peter startled and immediately started in on his cuffs while MJ turned away to the bed and started pulling things out of her backpack.  “Here.”  MJ’s hand closed over her swim goggles.  She threw them to Peter who caught them without looking up from his buttons.  Okay, that was cool.

“Um, so why do you have goggles?” Peter asked as he threw aside his shirt and zipped up the black hoodie.  Then he knelt down to pull on his sneakers, still fortunately laced up and tied.

MJ shrugged.  “You know.  In case we were going to go down to the hotel pool.  Like what Liz did for team building in DC.  Which you totally skipped.  But no one wanted to do anything as a team tonight.  Sally’s hooking up, Flash brought some gaming system, we’re here, etc., etc.  But you know, just in case, I brought my suit, too.”

“Seems like you were prepared for some fairly serious swimming. Not content to just lounge by the pool.”  Peter finished adjusting the hoodie and contemplated the googles.

“My eyes get irritated by chlorine.  But the googles are up to you.  Might help to hide your face or something.  Or they might be super annoying.” She shrugged.  “I don’t know how you roll.”

“Um.”  He slid them over his eyes and then off again.  “I don’t know.  Do you think the hoodie is enough?”  Peter tried retreat into the hood, but only succeeded in making MJ laugh at how he reminded her of a turtle.

“No, your little white boy face is like a full moon in there.  You gotta do something.”

“Okay, but _fast_.”

“Oh, right.  Shit.”  MJ had started to relax into their banter, but Peter hadn’t forgotten he was on a mission.  A rescue mission.  A quick survey of their belongings yielded only MJ’s black knit scarf.  “Do you…want to wrap it around your face?”  She winced at the mental image.  The turtle becomes a…ninja turtle?  This wasn’t going well.

“It’ll do.” Peter let her arrange it around his neck with fingers she was proud to see weren’t shaking and then he pulled it up over his lower face.  “And I’ll take the goggles, just in case.”  And he leapt to the balcony, then up and over the rail.

Well, she wasn’t going to fucking miss _this_. 

MJ ran out in to the cold of the balcony and peered down, her eyes straining to find Peter.  Shit, he moved quickly.  Instead of finding him still crawling down the side of the hotel from their fourth-floor height, he was already swinging from one of the still-standing lamp posts.  Did his webs conduct electricity?  MJ had no idea, but he started very carefully moving the dangling wires off the minivan by webbing them away, so probably not?  _Peter knows what he’s doing_ , she told herself.  _He’ll be careful._

After only a few minutes, the minivan was clear.  MJ could see the people inside watching Peter.  One of them was a little girl, her hair a halo of black curls around her head that kept catching the light as she kept swiveling around to watch Peter.  She reminded MJ of her little neighbor, Simone, a third-grader who was obsessed with Rhianna and nail polish.  Suddenly – where had it been before? – fear on behalf of the people trapped in the minivan seized MJ.  Her chest felt like it was contracting in on itself, folding into a tiny point of anxiety. 

How?  _How_ did Peter cope?  MJ knew that he had the softest of hearts, but he was somehow able to act without being overcome.  She watched as he carefully approached the minivan and spoke to the driver – probably the little girl’s parent – gesturing for a moment before going around the sliding door.  After opening it, he talked to the little girl inside for a moment.   MJ could only imagine what he was saying.  Something reassuring, no doubt.  Maybe a dumb joke, because he was good at those and probably it would help the girl calm down a little bit if she was afraid.  After a moment, he reached out and the little girl let him pick her up, her arms encircling his black hoodie – MJ’s black hoodie – as Peter leapt away to safety.  A small crowd of bystanders eagerly took the girl and wrapped her in someone’s large jacket.  Peter knelt and spoke to her quickly before returning to the car.  Next, he helped an older boy from the backseat and then away, speaking to him too.  Then, returning to carefully open the driver’s door and negotiate the woman’s safe exit as well before leaping them both to where the two children were being looked after.

It was only then that MJ noticed that a crowd had collected outside the hotel, almost beneath her balcony by the roadway, with some familiar gawkers milling about on the grass.  Of course, _of course,_ Flash was there along with half the Decathlon team ( _not_ Sally, heh) and some other kids she recognized from the tournament.  Some had their phones out, filming Peter in action, and MJ suddenly felt cold, hoping his improvised scarf/hoodie disguise was holding up.  Peter hadn’t done anything super spidery, but it was pretty clear he was working with more than the normal human toolbox.  Plus, those webs were pretty distinctive.

Crap.

MJ’s brain started clicking.  Could she warn Peter to disappear when he was done?  To head away from the hotel for a while?  Could she distract Flash and the others?  Peter hadn’t exactly taken his phone so she couldn’t call him and warn him, probably couldn’t just shout at him without causing _more_ problems.

_Okay, think, MJ._

MJ went back into the room and turned off the lights, maybe that would make it harder for anyone to see where he went if he just swung right back.  Also harder for Peter to find the right room? But that might be okay since giving time for people to wander off wasn’t a terrible idea.  She could always go out after the gawkers dispersed and like, wave her arms or something.   He probably didn’t have his room key in his pocket so he could sneak through the hotel – went it came down to it, _she_ didn’t even have a key to this room.  Why didn’t they make a plan before he left?

Yahgggg.  MJ started to gnaw on her thumb and returned to the balcony. 

Peter had been moving the light pole, but stiffened and stopped, leaving it where it was, half out of the road.  Sirens sounded in the distance.  _Finally_ , the cavalry arrives.   Peter ran and leapt over the road, jumping in long leaps away in the darkness until MJ lost sight of him.  Moments later, ambulances and cop cars started to arrive, stopping with a screech of tires and dizzying lights. 

But Peter was gone.  MJ searched the shadows until her eyes ached.  Well, then.  Probably that was his best play.  She retreated into the room again, leaving the sliding door open a crack, but drawing the shades.  This waiting part was shit.  How did anyone ever do it?  She pulled out her phone and just held it in her hand.  There was no one to call and really no reason to.  What was she gonna say?  _I’ve lost Peter.  He went out to help some people without his suit.  It would be really great if there was a way to keep him from showing up flashing his face in youtube videos._   Did Tony Stark have people for that?  Well, Tony Stark wasn’t here.  Peter had his wits and he had MJ.  That was plenty.

MJ squared her shoulders and went back to the sliding door and twitched aside the curtain to look out again.  Flash and the other monkeys were still down there, hooting in that familiar way.  She could see their upraised phones, their screens lit up as they livestreamed everything.   Fan-fucking-tastic.

_Thud._ MJ swallowed a screech as a dark shape landed on the balcony in front of her – a dark shape wearing her hoodie.  Hastily, she slid the door open and grabbed his arm, yanking him in and then slamming the door behind him.  Without loosening her grip on his sleeve, she pulled the curtains tightly over the glass doors.

“Hey,” he said, breathless in the dark.  “Your hoodie worked great.  That was so awesome.”  MJ turned on the lamp next to them, revealing his flushed face.  His hair was wild under the hoodie, his smile wide and triumphant.  Was this how he always was after helping someone?  Was this part of why he kept doing it?  For this rush afterwards?  Peter grabbed MJ and spun her gently around, his face shining under her black hoodie.  MJ laughed and let herself twirl in his arms, ignoring her hair getting in her face and her feet fumbling over the stupid hotel room carpet.

_This_ must be what it felt like to be swept away.

The knock on their door came like a bucket of cold water, dousing the fizzy feelings that MJ was _sure_ she wasn’t alone in feeling.  _Bang bang bang_!  And then a shout.  “Open up in there!  We saw that dude climb into your room!” There was some muffled scuffling outside the door and some muttering.  “Could’ve been the next room, man.”  The first voice was too, too familiar.  Flash.  No doubt standing with his phone ready to livestream whatever he found.

“Just don’t answer it?” Peter whispered.  They had frozen mid-twirl, all the giddiness of only a moment ago draining away.

MJ had stopped with her hands still entwined with Peter’s.  She used to describe Peter as a “puppy in the headlights” with his big brown eyes that widened with surprise every time she tore into him, but she would bet at that moment she was sporting a matching expression of wide-eyed panic. 

But she wasn’t Peter.  Peter was a hero and a good person and useless in a crisis he couldn’t swing his way out of.  MJ was a crisis expert.  She created crises, she ate them for breakfast and spat out their bones.  So, she broke out of her panic and _listened_.

Flash and whoever was with him – MJ couldn’t recognize all their voices through the flimsy hotel walls, but she could guess – were debating knocking on all the doors or just camping out in the hallway. 

Flash sounded like a quarterback in a huddle or at least the way MJ _assumed_ they sounded based on her viewing of exactly two and a half sports movies.  “We’ve got this weirdo cornered.  Mike’s outside and will follow him if he tries to leave through the balcony again, so we just gotta figure out what room he’s in.  It’s on this floor, for sure, but it could be any one of these.  This whole floor is reserved for the decathlon so it’s gotta be someone we know at the tournament. WE KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE YOU WACKO!”  MJ imagined him popping his head up from the circle of his minions for that last part.

Something in MJ’s brain smoothly decided on a course of action.  She stepped back, slipping out of Peter’s hands.  “Take off your shirt,” she told him.  “For real this time.”

“What?”  _What?_ ”  Peter sputtered.  It’s cute. And inconvenient.

“No really.  Do it.  Now.  Strip.  Down to your skin.”  MJ spun away from him and grabbed the hem of ugly duvet and yanked.   Peter let out a small squeak as his laptop bounced onto the floor.  “– Sorry! –” MJ’s backpack and pencils rained down on the carpet.   The clipboard spun away across the floor until it hit the desk.  Next, she peeled back the flat sheet and blanket, leaving them rumpled at the foot of the bed, and stopped to admire the effect.  Yes, it would do. 

Back to Peter.  Who was still completely dressed.  “I am not screwing around!” she snarled.  “Take your shirt off, I want to see some skin.  NOW.”

Peter gulped and fumbled with the zipper on the borrowed black hoodie, finally getting it down and shucking the sleeves off.  The banging on the door had settled into a rhythmic beat.  Flash was shouting indistinct threats and shining a light through the peephole. 

“Just throw it somewhere, like, behind the bed.”  MJ pointed and Peter got rid of the hoodie on the floor and hesitated before reaching to pull off his gray t-shirt.   “Shoes too.  _And_ the web wrist thingies.  _Hide_ those.”  MJ tried to nod encouragingly and not stare as he revealed why exactly he’d been hiding under sweaters and baggy shirts for the past however many months since his …transformation.  Holy Crap.  Also, objectify _later_.  Problem-solve _now_.  He stuffed the web slingers into his backpack pocket, zipping it closed.  “Um…good.  Come here.”  MJ grabbed Peter by the wrist and dragged him to the side of the bed facing the door and, with a tiny shove, toppled him over onto the plain white sheet that was all that she had left on the bed.  “Just…lie there.  And follow my lead.   Which means just agree with me no matter what, got it?” 

Peter looked up at her, naked to the waist, otherwise wearing only his jeans and incredibly dorky Yoda socks.  Oh, god.  Those socks.  “I trust you,” he said.  And MJ realized she might just not survive this.

“Good.”  MJ took a deep breath and yanked her long-sleeved black t-shirt over her head and threw it artfully over the lamp next to the bed.  She wasn’t wearing a bra.  Bras were a tool of the patriarchy.  Sometimes.  Mostly.  On days when she hadn’t done laundry, certainly.  Anyway.

Peter made this tiny wheezy noise from below her, and even though she had told herself she was _not_ going to check his reaction, she couldn’t help looking down at where he was sprawled.  “Wow,” he gasped.  “I mean, I trust you.”

“That’s what I want to hear.”  There was a couple of heartbeats where MJ actually _forgot_ that Flash was screaming and beating down the door, where she forgot to breathe or to look away from Peter who looked up at her with such openness, every thought plain on his face.    _You’re not being cool, MJ_ , her inner critic said in a sing-song voice. MJ forced herself to step to the side before leaning over to grab a pillow to clutch to her chest.  She turned away and went to the door.  “Ready?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder, one hand on the doorknob.  “Ready,” he said, his trust shining out of his eyes.  _Don’t fuck this up, MJ._

No deep breath, no moment to collect herself.  MJ threw the door open.

There was a half second of blistering silence, then pandemonium.  MJ strapped on her most extreme bitch face and dove into the confrontation, trying _not_ to overact.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” MJ snarled at Flash and the hooting mass of – yep – all dudes.  Nice.  Some part of her, the sneaky, drama-queen part, _loved_ playing to the crowd, and drank in the jeers and shouting, Flash screaming with disbelief.  “You and Parker?  Oh my god is this really happening?” MJ ate it up because while they were melting down over her pillow-covered nudity, over Peter reclining dazed and naked on the bed, they weren’t questioning _why_ exactly she was just standing there, letting them look their fill and draw their own conclusions.  The black-clad mystery that had climbed through a balcony window had been banished to the dumpster of memory by this new shiny distraction of a surprise hook-up.  Mission fucking accomplished.

MJ made a shooing motion with the hand that wasn’t holding the pillow over her boobs.  She’d flash them if she had to, but it didn’t look like they were going to need the added misdirection. 

“Go away, losers!” she said.  “We’re busy.  And you’d better not be taking pictures or I will report your asses for possession of child pornography.  I see you all and I know your names.”  MJ pointed to each one in turn, gratified to see them turn green and start poking their phones.  Delete away, fuckers.  Delete everything from tonight, while you’re at it.  Delete your camera roll and wipe your phones.  It was an effort but she kept the grin from her face until _after_ she slammed the door shut behind her.

For a moment, she and Peter just stared at each other, listening as the thudding and snickering in the hallway faded away.  MJ didn’t even wait to be sure they were truly gone before whooping and throwing herself on the bed next to Peter, landing so that both of them dangled their feet in the mess of their belongings while their faces were…close.

“Wow, just…wow,” Peter said, bouncing a little closer from MJ’s impact on the bed.  “You were completely and utterly amazing.  I never would have come up with anything like that in time.  You totally saved me.”

MJ laughed, a little crazily in her triumph, but hey, she deserved it.  She rolled towards him too, clutching the pillow tightly.  “I know, _right_?  Just offer them a little skin as distraction and they totally forgot why they were even banging on the door in the first place.  They can go bother someone else while they look for you.  _If_ they even remember.”  Peter’s hand rested on the bed between them and part of MJ was aware of just how close they were to each other.  Okay, she was _very_ aware.  She could feel the cool air on the skin of her back, the pillow squashed against her breasts, and Peter’s bare shoulders were _right there_.  Her heart was galloping in her chest.  She’s surprised the pillow wasn’t vibrating with every beat.

“I think that’s what a magician would call misdirection.”

“It’s what a conspiracy theorist would call a cover-up,” MJ countered.  “And also, yuck, magicians?  Way to spoil the moment.”

“Oh, sorry.  I’ll go back to telling you how great you are.”

MJ laughed again.  Giggled even?  Is this what it felt like to be _giddy_? Very out of character for her.  She was going to calm down at any moment.  “Yeah, I was pretty slick.”

“More than that.”  Peter was suddenly serious.  “You were so _smart_.  I panicked and you were so cool.  I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.  I’m glad you know about – everything – but not just because you saved me.  I wanted to you know before all this.”

“Why?” MJ’s eyes narrowed. 

“Because…”  Peter gulped.  “Because I really like you.  And I didn’t want to lie to you anymore.”

Peter stopped talking, and just watched her, his eyes moving over her face as if waiting for MJ to say something.

All of MJ’s internal voices piped up at once.  _What about Liz?_ asked that traitorous little one that had stopped her from believing that his tiny looks and elbow touches meant anything.  _Of course, he likes you.  You just saved his ass_.  Was that the same voice or a different one with the same cynical tone?  _Who cares?????_ said another.  _Did you hear what he said???_   _Peter doesn’t lie about anything but Spider-Man,_ continued the one she liked best because it said the things she wanted to hear.   And all the voices were really just MJ, conflicted and too skeptical for her own good because they were keeping her from doing the thing she _really_ wanted to do.

But wanting this wasn’t enough.  MJ wasn’t going to break her heart over anyone who couldn’t appreciate her, no matter how kind and smart and funny and …  Crushes were survivable.  Throwing herself away on someone who didn’t have the good taste to appreciate what a glorious badass she was?  Nope.  Not happening.

Deep breath. “Peter, I don’t do second best.  I’m only here with you now because a couple of other people got bumped and now you’ve got an open slot.”  She gestured with the hand not clutching the pillow.  “Ned. Liz.  I’m sure there are some people in tights that you might also rank highly.  And that’s cool.  But it’s not my style to try to be something I’m not, so don’t think that I’m a nice person because I helped you right now. 

“MJ…no.  I…” Peter shifted towards her, suddenly.  “Wow, I wish we were having this conversation with more clothes on.  I don’t want you to think that I’m being influenced by that. But you’re not – I’d never – you’re not second best.  To anyone.  First of all, Ned is like, _totally_ different than you.  We’re definitely just friends.  And Liz – “

“I’m not, like, fishing for compliments here, Parker.  You don’t have to come up with nice things to say about me or trash Liz.”

“I’m going to – hey, can you just let me talk?”  His eyes widen in exasperation, his mouth is smiling.

“Depends.  Are you gonna say something intelligent?” MJ shot back.

“Probably not.  No.  But you should listen anyways.”

MJ makes a big-eyed face, but stays silent.

“Okay, here’s the thing.  I like you.  I like being around you.  You make me feel smarter, better – I feel like I wake up when you come into a room.   You have no problem messing with me, but you don’t take any bullshit from anyone, especially not me.  I don’t know, I can’t say what might happen next between us because I sure didn’t see this coming, but I’m absolutely not missing this chance to tell you all this.  Even if I know it looks bad to be only bringing this up _now_ , after you’ve been so totally amazing, instead of telling you before because I definitely felt the same _before_.  And –”

_Hey, MJ_ , a tiny voice whispered.  _He’s sorta confessing some feelings here.  Like, fuzzy heart-shaped feelings.  Isn’t this the kind of thing you’ve wanted to hear?  How convincing does he have to be before you believe him? Huh? Huh?_

“Shhhhh,” MJ said.

“What?” Peter said quickly, with an edge of hurt, and then just gasped as MJ tossed the pillow aside and drew herself closer to him, reaching out to touch his arm, to run her hand up to his neck.  Wow.  This was the correct decision.

“I was shushing myself, not you.  Say whatever you need to say,” she said.  “I’m listening.”

“For the record,” Peter said, a little breathlessly, “I didn’t tell you that so you would do _that_.  Absolutely, 100% not complaining, at all.  But, if you’d be more comfortable, we can find our clothes…wherever they went…”

“No, I’m happy where I am,” she said.  “ _Just_ as I am.”

“Okay,” he said and smiles so sweetly, MJ doesn’t even bother to struggle with herself to keep from smiling back.  Slowly, carefully, letting her see him coming, he reaches out to brush some of her hair out of her face and lets his hand trail down her cheek.  “You’re so smart and I didn’t know how to talk to you.  How to hope that maybe, you liked me too.  Because you never hold back or sugarcoat things, I wondered if meant anything when we just kept spending more time together, and then you came here tonight, so I….”

“For the record,” she echoed him. “I am not some sort of mastermind.  This wasn’t my plan all along, but since we’re both here…” MJ searched his face and then said, “I’m gonna kiss you now.” 

And she did, swooping in just slowly enough to watch his face light up before his eyes fell shut just as she softly brushed his mouth with her own.  His hand slid down her cheek to gently cup the nape of her neck, and MJ shivered at his touch, using this as an excuse to press herself against his chest.   Peter gasped into her mouth as her nipples touched his skin, and MJ shivered again, causing Peter to slide both arms around her fully, one staying to cradle her neck and the other at her lower back.  MJ kissed him again and again, signaling her approval of this move.  First kiss, second kiss, third – she lost track as they crashed into each other, MJ pressing herself fully against his chest.

It wasn’t like the movies – thank dog.  And it wasn’t perfect.  Their noses didn’t quite fit right, and they mashed their chins together a few times before figuring that out, and it was altogether _wetter_ than MJ had thought it would be.  But there was a bright, hot fizz under MJ’s skin everywhere Peter touched, and he just tasted so _good_.  Her brain was just singing _so this is what it his shoulders feel like, his hair, his face_.  And his teeth a couple of times, but they’d work on that.

 After a moment – an hour – a  few minutes, MJ decided that she didn’t want to do any of this softly anymore and rolled them both over so she was on top of Peter, thrilling as he held her tightly enough that she could feel the heat in his hands and the strength in his arms, but leaving her free to raise herself above him, her hair framing them both as it escaped completely. 

Peter opened his eyes as MJ separated from him and said, “This is definitely the best thing I’ve ever seen.”  And then he blushed a deep red that she saw stain his cheeks and rush down his neck to the top of his chest.  “That sounded terrible.  I just mean, you’re _so_ beautiful.  And I never – I’ve never – I couldn’t have.  Aggg.  I just mean that this is pretty much the greatest moment of my life.”  Then he closed his eyes and shook his head.  “Can I stop talking now?  I don’t want to ruin this with my mouth.  I mean – oh my god.”

“Nah, go on.”  MJ patted his cheek with one hand.  “I’m enjoying this.  Best moment?  I’ve bet you’ve had some good times in your stretchy suit with your superhero pals.  And you say this is better? Hmmmm?”  She rolls her eyes with skepticism, but her heart wasn’t in it.  She’s ready for him to babble about her in all the stupid Peter ways that she knows so well.

“No comparison,” Peter said, his eyes fastened on her, refusing to look away this time, despite any lingering embarrassment.  MJ felt like he’s looking into her – ugh, no.  No stupid clichés, even in her own interior monologues.  Nope, nope, nope. But there’s something about how he fixed his eyes on face, even when her bare breasts are _right there_ that made her breathing stutter and her hands shake.

Time to crack a joke, time to for some snark, anything to make that wobbly feeling go away.  “Okay, but I think you’re not really thinking with your full brain right now.”  MJ ground herself against him and he blushed even darker.  “We’ll revisit this when you have all your clothes on.”

Peter let his eyes fall closed again and whispered, “What about you?  Will you be fully dressed during this conversation?”

“We’ll see.” MJ said and sat up all the way so his arms fell away from her back, then leaned in again to take his wrists in her hands and pin them above his head, going in for more kissing.  And he tasted so good, better than she thought he would – not that she _ever_ thought she’d get this far, not this soon, maybe never. 

Then they were lost in the haze of mouths and sliding skin again, Peter letting her keep his hands above his head until she dropped them, when he took that as permission to let them travel to her shoulders, then down to her back again.  This time MJ was prepared and tried to hide how her body reacted, keeping the shivering to a minimum as his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her waist, but when his lips traveled to her ear, to her neck, she gave in and shuddered, scraping her herself against his warmth.

After that, she completely lost her head, lost track of time, lost track of reality.  There was nothing but Peter’s face and body.  Until –

Peter actually gently disengaged, moving back slightly.  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said.

“What?” MJ froze. 

“Wait.  Listen.”  Peter brushed hair away from her face again.  “Is this – I don’t know how to say this, but I’m going to try.  Is this just a one-time only thing?  Because – because I’d really like this to be not just once.  I mean, not just the kissing part.  Or the naked part.  But I mean, do you want to spend more time together?  After this?  Are we going to be –” Peter struggled and MJ actually sees him try out and discard the various paths that sentence could take before starting again.  “I really like you and I want to do stuff together.  More than just making out once at a hotel.  I’d like us to try to be – “

“Girlfriends?”  MJ deadpanned.  “Going steady?  Hooking up? Study buddies?”

“I’m gonna blush again,” Peter said, putting his hand over his face.

“Oh, please do,” MJ said, delightedly dropping the deadpan.

“No, really.  This is important.”  He actually sat up, and MJ slid down with a bounce into his lap, and then they’re nose-to-nose, well let’s be honest MJ had to look _down_ because at this angle with the extra boost of straddling his lap, she’s wayyyy taller.  “I can _not_ handle it if tomorrow you just pretend like nothing has changed.  If you pretend like nothing happened.  Please just – just tell me now if we’re going to try to be something to each other or if this is it.  Because I won’t survive hoping for more.”

MJ wanted to laugh, to mess with him even more – it would be _so_ easy.  He had literally – literally! –  laid himself bare in before her.  All that strength, all that selflessness, all that secrecy – all forgotten in this moment where he’s just asking for something.  Asking for _her_.  Could she be that brave?  Brave enough to stop screwing around and say something equally true?  Sometime that frightened her?  Could she drop the barbs and jokes? What does she _want_ to say? 

“Okay,” MJ croaked. 

“Okay?” He said.  And the hope in voice is more than MJ can bear.   “Okay what?”

“Okay, we can…hang out more.  Naked.  Or not.  Depending on the circumstances.  We can do…stuff together.”  Why is this _so_ hard?  MJ tried again.  “I’d like that.  I’d like for us to be…together.  Tonight and after.  For real.  Whatever that means.”

“Really?”  And there’s that brilliant smile again.

“Really.”  And then she recovered, a little bit.  Enough.  “But no more lying,” she said, poking his chest.  “Tell me stuff, even if you have to be vague, but don’t _lie_ , not anymore.  If you’re going to be late, if you’re going to be off saving the world and you have to bail on me, just _tell me_.”

“I can do that,” he said slowly.  “But it’s going to be hard, at first.  I’m so used to just – covering.  So, if I screw up, it’s not because I’m not trying.  I’ll get better.  I can promise that much.”

“That’s enough.  Trying is pretty good,” MJ said.

And they just sort of stared at each other for a moment.  MJ _hoped_ that she wasn’t smiling the in same goofy way that Peter was.  It certainly _felt_ like that was what she was doing, but it wasn’t a conscious choice. 

“So….”  He looked up hopefully at her.  “Wanna go back to kissing for a little while?”

“You liked that, huh?”  MJ pushed him back down on the bed.  “You know, I’ve got a whole emergency kit in my backpack, as recommended by Liz.  First Aid stuff, band-aids, aspirin, and about 50 condoms and dental dams.”

Peter chokes a little at the word ‘condom.’  “ _What?_ Why?”

“You know.  Liz was always prepared for everything.  I pared down the emergency kit a little bit, chucked the bandages because _honestly_ , if someone on our teams is bleeding that badly, I am _so_ not dealing with that.  Find a professional.  But maybe we’ll need to get some extras if you’re gonna be leaping off buildings on school trips.”

“But – condoms?”  Peter circled back to the important part. 

“You know, for moments like these.  The only reason no one’s banged down our door to ask me for them on this trip is that probably no one knew which room I ended up in.  Better hope Flash impresses everyone with the power of my wrath as he spreads this story around so the visitors don’t start up.”  MJ rolled her eyes.

Peter sat up again suddenly, and MJ bounced back, widening her eyes in mock alarm.  This was fun!  He His face is a little wild and he said, “There’s just so much about what you just said that I can’t handle.  First, how long have the decathlon captains been passing around condoms and how come I didn’t know about this?”

“Since _forever_.  Refilling the emergency kit comes out of the team building budget.  And since you and Ned always end up staying hidden in your room together on trips or you _sneak out_ to go be Spider-Man, you’ve never been around for any shenanigans.”

Peter closed his eyes. “Until now.”

“Yeah, now you’re like _covered_ in shenanigans.  I’m gonna have to actually call Ned tomorrow.  Maybe send him a fruit basket.”  MJ flicked Peter’s ear and his eyes popped open again.

“Listen,” he said.  “I cannot tell if you’re joking or not.  But can we maybe take a rain check on the condoms?  I honestly have no idea what you have planned and this might be hugely presumptuous of me, but I gotta say it anyways.  Like, I never thought I’d get this far – we’d get this far.  This is beyond my wildest fantasies.  Mostly, I thought we’d start with a little hand holding…” he trailed off and made a face. “Sounds stupid now.  But, if we’re really gonna be together tomorrow and afterwards, I’d like to remember everything we do together.  All of this.  Like, if you really mean it, then we have time, right?” 

He looked up at her, and MJ sees the hesitancy again.  Is he wondering if maybe part of her just wants to get with Spider-Man?  Something rises in her chest.  It’s familiar.  It’s that swamping wave of fucking _protectiveness_ that she felt when he mentioned how he’d never gotten the chance to choose to tell anyone his secret.  Peter was the kindest, bravest, sweetest person she’d ever known – before the goddamn spider bite – and he deserved someone who could tell him that his super powers were the least important part about him.  Maybe MJ couldn’t ever match him with the appreciation he deserved, but by some crazy happenstance, he wanted _her_ so she was going to hold on with every sharp thing she possessed until he gnawed off his own leg to get away.  Okay, so that metaphor got away from her, but this surging feeling of – of _affection_ had to go somewhere.

_Don’t say any of the crazy things that just went through your head, MJ.  Try not to scare him._ MJ licked her lips and tried out her voice.  “You want to maybe try that out another time?  The condom thing?  Like after we’ve been hanging out…. together…. for a while?  I think it’s called ‘taking it slow’.” She pushed him back down and curled down against his shoulder, fitting her face against his neck, taking a deep drag on how great his skin smelled. She checked the scrape on his neck while she was down there. Totally healed.  Wild. His arms automatically went around her shoulders, and this time, she didn’t try to hide how she twitched at his touch.  Quivered.  Gross.  Not gonna say that out loud.  But she let him feel it so he knew it affected her to feel his hands on her skin.  That was something she could do without having to come up with the right words.

Peter’s hands tightened around her.  “I don’t actually want to do _anything_ slow.  Also, I feel like the biggest idiot because you seem to have forgotten that you’re not wearing a shirt, but I really, really haven’t.” 

MJ let her fingers trail over his chest and started up his arms.  “How many muscles do you have, anyway?”

She could feel his face move under her forehead and could picture the exact frowny expression he was making and giggled.  _Giggled._ Oh, jeez _._   “All of them?” he said, perplexed. 

“See, I can objectify you too.”

“Shhhh….  I’m trying to make a point.”

“So am I.”

“Can I talk?” he said, but he’s laughing.

MJ mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key.  But it’s not like he could see her where she was tucked under his chin.

He tried again.  “I just mean…” He sighed deeply.  “If I have a heart attack right now, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

There was a long silence.  MJ finally asked, “Can say something now?  I vote should we just make out for a while.”

“Is this a democracy?”  Peter asked, but MJ could hear the laughter in his voice.

“Nope.”

And they were done talking for a while.

***

Later, much later, MJ and Peter shyly picked up their clothes from the around the room, repacked their belongings, and climbed into their pajamas.

“This is a little weird, isn’t it?” Peter said, heading into the bathroom with his toothbrush and toothpaste.   It was _well_ past midnight.  They had been left undisturbed but had heard several groups go galloping past in the hallway.  Hunting for mysterious black-clad heroes?  Playing Pokémon Go? Who could say?

MJ shrugged, finding her phone to check what made it to the internet after Peter’s heroics.   Just a few shaky videos of people following a dark blot under the remaining streetlights.  The local news coverage was brief as well.  Flash et al.’s Instas were all strangely quiet for that period of time…  Huh.  There were a couple of veiled references to hook-ups, which oh, well. “Parker, when are things not weird?”

“Well, we’ve never seen each other’s pjs before,” he said.  He was wearing some boring boy sweatpants and a baggy nerd shirt.  Which was basically what she was wearing.  Convenient. 

“That’s stupid.  Shoulda done that a while ago,” she said vaguely, reading something on her phone, but not so distracted that she didn’t see that Peter thought this was a good answer.

After brushing her teeth as well, she slid into the bed beside him.  The lights were off now and she wasn’t sure where to put her hands.  There was silence for a moment and then Peter reached out, covering her hand with his.  “Is this okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said, already sleepy.  It had been a big day!  “Is it okay if I maybe end up wrapped around you like a baby koala?  No promises.”

Peter made a choked little noise.  He was probably laughing.  “I can’t tell if you’re joking, but that’s okay with me.”

“I don’t know either…” And she fell asleep with her fingers entwined with Peter’s.

***

MJ went down first to breakfast.  Peter was still fluffy headed and searching for one of his shoes (they really _had_ flung things all over) while MJ was itching to go find out how the current narrative was unfolding.  Plus, she _was_ still captain.  Time to try to make sure everyone had a decent breakfast, maybe a little protein, before their day of matches.  It was no use hoping anyone got any sleep.  Even without the extra drama of Peter’s intervention in the accident, Sally’s reunion with her star-crossed love, and the reality-show style staging of MJ and Peter’s false-flag operation, these trips mostly devolved into gambling and attempted hook-ups, while the chaperones and teachers hid in their rooms like cowards.  Mr. Harrison was well-known to take two doses of generic Benadryl and then be so overcome by drowsiness he was useless until morning.

Conversation stopped when MJ strolled into the hotel dining room. No, _swaggered._   She was feeling pretty damn good about her life and all of her choices. Okay, so it was really only the small group from Midtown who turned and stared as she sauntered in, Flash with a spoonful halfway to his open mouth, Charles and Abe with slowly spreading grins.  And MJ was surprised at how thrilling it was to feel all their eyes on her, their knowing smiles because they’d been talking about how she and Peter had hooked up the night before.  Well, she certainly wasn’t going to pretend to be sorry about it. 

_Hey, losers.  Yes. I did in fact nail Spider-Man last night, AKA the undiscovered hottie in your midst.  Or I would have had he not had an attack of feelings and insist that we actually date for a while before we get all the way to full-on sex.  Boo-hoo.  My life is so hard,_ her inner voice crowed as she high-fived Sally and Cindy, gave a little wave to Sally’s galpal who had bravely decided to cross over into enemy territory to sit with her, and gave a little bow to everyone before snagging a two-top for herself. 

Next, she finger-gunned Flash who maybe had been prepared to give her shit, but was unprepared for her smirk.  Mr. Harrison watched the whole thing with a confused face, but continued to sort through his collection of allergy medication instead of pursuing any obvious questions.

At this interesting moment, Peter ambled in, his enhanced senses failing him as it took him until he was halfway across the dining room to notice that every set of eyes had fixed on him.  His steps slowed and he looked around with big round eyes.

“Hey, loser,” MJ called, keenly aware of the theater of the situation.  “I saved you a seat.”

Peter gulped and started moving again, skittering over to the seat opposite her.  “MJ, do they all know? What should I do?” he hissed at her in what he fondly believed to be a whisper.

“Smile and wave,” MJ told him, doing just that at their avid audience.

Peter just hunched his shoulders.  “How did they figure it out? Did something else happen last night?  Is there video?”

MJ put a hand on Peter’s arm and modulated her voice to much less carrying tone.  “Hey.  It’s okay.  It’s about you and that _thing_ you did.  They don’t know about you and your extracurricular activities.  Some guy jumping around an accident last night?  Old news.  Forgotten. The team captain hooking up with an underling who’s always late.  Now that’s something worth talking about.”  And then she swung her feet into Peter’s lap.  “You’re not going to be able to get rid of me now.  _Everyone_ knows.”

“Oh.  Ohhhhh.”  His shoulders unspooled and his face lost that pinched look. “So, we’re…a thing?  A gossip thing?”

“Absolutely,” MJ purred, smiling over his head at all the watching eyes.

“Well.  That’s just so…. terrible.  I think my reputation must be _ruined_ now.  How will I ever make an advantageous match?”  Peter’s hand dropped her ankle in his lap and he leaned forward, switching from panicked to playful.  Did he _know_ her ankles were ticklish or was that an accident?

“Guess you’re stuck with me.  Like in a Jane Austen novel.  We’ll have to elope to Gretna Green on a fast coach….” MJ trailed off as his fingers ran over a particularly sensitive spot.  Oh _,_ he _knew_.  Had they covered ankles last night?  She felt like she would have remembered that.  Lucky guess, then.

“What’s wrong?  Does this tickle?” he asked with a straight face.

MJ tried to squirm away, her giggles turning into a snort as Peter delightedly exploited her weakness.  “Hey!  You’re undermining my authority!  I’m the captain!  I’m supposed to lead all these people to victory today,” she said as she wiggled.

“What authority?  Didn’t half of these people see you naked just last night?” he had leaned forward and his eyes were dancing.

“Ooh, what a double standard!  That number is the very same as the number that saw _you_ naked.  And it’s _half_ naked.  The number who have seen me naked is _one._   Only you.” 

“Only you,” Peter echoed and blushed.

 And MJ forgot all the watching eyes, forgot to be cool, forgot to be cynical and blushed herself as the world fell away and only Peter remained.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my best swing at hitting a couple of tropes in what I hope is a realistic and in-character way. Ha. I was completely smitten by Spider-Man: Homecoming and by Michelle (MJ) despite her extremely limited screen time. With the next movie bearing down on us (can’t wait!!!) I had to give one of my versions of How They Got Together a chance, knowing that it’s all going to be blown out of the water by whatever happens onscreen.
> 
> And I tried to write a version of their make-out scene that was more than PG-13 but it felt extremely out-of-character and every attempt to make it sexier was met by Peter Parker getting embarrassed and overwhelmed. He’s gonna need several more dates and some more romancing to get in his pants, but MJ is up to the challenge.
> 
> Look, I love Ned to pieces, but he had to be gone for this plot to work. Sorry. If you’re worried, I promise you that he gets over his bug quickly and is back at school on Monday, just in time to partake in all the gossip and give Peter an endless hard time. MJ gets a high five.


End file.
